Belladonna

might have been a snicker. "In that case, I suggest we fill a basket from the guest house larder.
    Simpler that way, don't you think?"
    She had no opinions about the simplicity of using the guest house larder, but she knew with absolute certainty that her life was about to change — and nothing was going to be simple.

    *
In the hidden part of the world known as Darling's Garden, air ruffled the water in the pool and murmured among the leaves.
    Fluttered the blue ribbon that tied a long tail of brown hair.
    The garden resonated with New Darling's heart wish, sending ripples through Ephemera's currents of power, both Light and Dark: "Isn't there anyone out there in the world who would he my friend?"
    An answering resonance rippled back from many places of Ephemera, but there was one place that had a stronger resonance, a better resonance. Because one heart wish could answer another. In response, Ephemera altered a little piece of the garden to provide an access point to a part of itself that resonated with that other heart wish. But New Darling did not cross over. So it took what New Darling had left for it to play with and brought it to the place that resonated with the other heart wish.
    As the long tail of brown hair disappeared from the garden, one bud on the heart's hope bloomed into a beautiful, delicate flower.

Chapter eight
    H urry, hurry, hurry, Merrill thought as the ship closed the distance to Atwater's harbor. But not fast enough, despite having full sails. Something followed them. She could feel Its presence, feel the lure of It every time she looked at the water.
    Would they have time to get back to Light-haven and do ... What? Shaela kept asking that very question, but Merrill had no answer. If that was the Destroyer — the Well of All Evil from the ancient tales — moving through the water in pursuit of their ship, how could two plants or a prayer circle stop It?
    "It still follows," Shaela said when she joined Merrill at the bow. "It makes no attempt to catch up to us, but It follows."
    "It doesn't need to catch us," Merrill replied. "All It needs to do is surround the White Isle, and we'll be trapped. Then It will consume the people living in the island's villages, just as It did in the old stories, until Lighthaven and our Sisters are all that is left
    — tiny candles in the dark. Candles that, in their turn, will be snuffed out one by one."
    "Don't talk that way," Shaela said, her voice sharp, "You are the leader at Lighthaven. If you believe the White Isle is lost, our Sisters will believe it too. And then it will be lost. Our belief in the Light is the ship that brings the Light to all the people who live on the White Isle as well as our countrymen in Elandar. That's why we live apart — to maintain the innocence needed to nurture that belief."
    "Your life wasn't sheltered," Merrill said.
    "No, it wasn't. Which is why I cling to my belief in the Light. It is my raft, made from the planks of a broken life." Shaela rubbed her fingers against her forehead. "What will we do when we reach home, Merrill? There will be no time to sit and debate.
    We need to decide before we reach Atwater, since whatever we do must be done swiftly."
    "I know, I know." But what could they do?
    Merrill curled her hands around the railing, then dosed her eyes and tried to picture a ceremony they could perform that would save the White Isle — and more importantly, Lighthaven — from the Destroyer.
    And could picture nothing.
    "We're heading into harbor," the captain called.
    "This is what we'll do," Shaela said, shifting closer to Merrill. "We'll form a prayer circle made up of seven Sisters. We'll place the plants in the center of the circle. Four Sisters will chant the words that were heard in the dream. The other three will chant an affirmation as a refrain."
    Merrill stared at her friend. "But that's — That's sorcery. You're talking about casting a spell, not participating in a prayer circle."
    "It's all about belief, isn't it?" Shaela demanded. "Sorcery or prayer. What difference does it make what we call it? If we stand in front of our Sisters and say seven is a number of the Light, not a tool of magic, who will doubt us? Who will doubt you, our leader? If you say it is so, it will be so."
    Suspicion too primitive to be shaped into words suddenly filled Merrill. She felt her body draw itself up, flinch away from the other woman. A broken life, Shaela had called the past that had brought her to the White